Angel/Buffy
by Triskell
Summary: 2 short companion pieces about...well, Angel and Buffy
1. Angel

Disclaimer: The characters belong to the WB (as far as I know), at least, they do not belong to me, only the story does. 

**ANGEL**  
© Triskell, October 2000

  
His memories were overshadowed by his past, by the darkness within him. He was consumed by pain, guilt and regrets, but most of all by the longing for a comfort he no longer dared to imagine.  
  
Because there was a price for the comfort he sought, too dear, too bloody to be contemplated. A deadly price for a happiness he had craved for as long as he could remember, even when he had still been human. If he reached out for it, his soul was forfeit.   
  
The one woman his heart had opened to, accepted as a part of himself, the only true love he had known - she was out of his reach forever. He belonged to her, to the dream of a life with her, but he knew he would never be able to touch her and hold her as he wanted to.   
  
Yet he was irresistibly drawn towards her time and again, craving a smile, a look, the aura of her warmth. Her hand could bring death to what he was, and still he needed her more than the breath he had given up for his eternal life.   
  
He tossed in bed some nights, spent days in gloomy darkness, out of the sun, always away from what he cherished, always brooding. He had come so close to everlasting rest - more than once. And he knew, deep down inside, that for him death was the only solution.   
  
The only way to ever end his toil and despair. He could go on, if he chose to, but he was weary, bone weary of this limited shadow of a life that was his - destined to want and seek, but never to find, never to have, to be alone forever.   
  
Her sparkling eyes were what he looked for amidst every crowd, no matter where he went and he could not hide from his feelings, from his bitter want.   
  
He loathed his kind and in this loathing there was only nothingness, silent oblivion of who he was - for he was bound to those monsters by the ties of blood and kin. There was no denying what he was, had been and could become again. He stumbled along almost blindly, making amends for a past he had thought long done away with.   
  
He fought and prayed for absolutions that were not his to ask for and the memories that haunted his sleep were dark, as dark as the demon that lived inside him, lurking in the shadows of his soul, awaiting his chance to slip free once more.   
  
And what scared him more than another death, even more than becoming the man he had been once, a century or so ago, was that he could not cope without her. She was his heart, all that he was, all the world he had built for himself.   
  
Knowing that she was far away from him and would have to choose a life without his curse eventually, without him, was the most terrifying of his nightmares. For it was his destiny to lose her, irrevocably to another's touch, to another's love.   
  
Yet within his tortured mind he wished her to find a man to live with, one that could drive away the shadows of his love from her heart and soul. One that could free her of the memories they had made, of a feeling for him that could only lead to her doom.   
  
When it happened, when she found a new, a better lover, then he would let go, leave her forever. Finally. Eternally.   
  
Where he went to was of no consequence, nor what he did there. The realisation that kept pushing past his barriers of denial swept over him and its renewed force shook his already breaking heart like the storm-tossed branches of a weeping willow.   
  
Forsaken love - she was his punishment!   
  
She was his sun, his warmth, his light and his reason to go on. And she was lost to him. He had to bear it, a minor compensation to atone for the pain and grief his demonic self had brought to others.   
  
And she was danger too, for without fully realising it she held the key to Angelus' dominance and Angel's life.   
  
The sun would soon rise, yet he tarried on the beach. Too much was lost to him already. What was left for him now when all was said and done? He might as well remain within the early morning shadows and then drink the light of day when it touched upon him - consuming him, his life, his pain, evaporating all his memories.   
  
So easy, and so tempting would be this end, but still he rose and dragged himself to face a colder destiny, a bleaker fate. For deep within he loved her, and in this love he wrapped his future and with it dreamt his aching soul.   
  
The End. 


	2. Buffy

Disclaimer: The characters belong to the WB (as far as I know), at least, they do not belong to me, only the story does. 

**~*~ BUFFY ~*~**  
© Triskell, January 2001  
Companion piece to "ANGEL"

  
I love him with every beat of my heart, with every fibre of my being and now he's gone. The man I thought he was - dead, gone, taken by the demon, by Angelus. How a man and a monster can be part of each other, so much that you cannot separate one from the other anymore…   
  
Once upon a time I thought I had the chance to love him, as he should have been loved before he became a monster, before he became a vampire. But it was impossible. When I gave him what he desired most, what I most wanted him to have, he died. I killed the man I love.   
  
There's no other way to see it. Not anymore. I'm not that delusional. I know that Angel can always change back into what he was before he was given his soul. And I am the one who holds the key to his transformation. It is my love that killed him, it can only be my love that heals him. So I must keep away from him, let him go, even if it tears my heart apart.   
  
However much I might wish for it, we have no future. The chances for our happiness were slim even before… How one moment of happiness can change all your life! I had never believed that I could give it to him. Not like this…I had never realised just how much he loved me. It scares me to have a power over Angel that no one ought to have.   
  
I can choose between life and death - my life with him, always apart, or the death of all I love about him, the re-birth of Angelus, the monster, the bloodthirsty vampire. So easy - a choice that seems so deceptively easy to make - and yet I cannot. Dare not. For I long for him. His touch, his kiss…him.   
  
And I cannot have him. And I can never forget him either. He'll always be a part of me, no matter how far he is, no matter who I am with. The memory of his smile is etched into my soul and cannot be erased. Not even by another lover. And this is not good. Not good at all. To think that I'll never be free of Angel… that he will be with me for the rest of my life.   
  
I'm afraid I can't fully give myself again and yet I'm so loath to loose even the scant comfort his presence in the back of my mind would be. He taught me the meaning of love, of sacrifice, of pain. All in one moment. One perfect moment that cost him his soul and took my first lover away from me forever.   
  
My kiss is poison, my arms are deadly for him. I inspired a passion in him that is lethal, one way or another. He'd die for me, as I would for him. And he has died - for me, at my hands…in my arms. I hate myself for it.   
  
And even more I hate myself for not being able to let him go, I can't live without him and I don't want to. I'm selfish enough not to free him from the bonds of duty that still hold him at my side, despite the pain, the unfulfilled longing for the one woman he may not, cannot have. Never.   
  
Maybe this was destiny - the main reason why he was given his soul; he sees what he lost, what his life as a murdering demon cost him. Years, decades, centuries after he became a vampire, he is haunted by his past and I am what makes him most miserable…  
  
Sometimes I believe it would be best to leave. To vanish, simply be gone, for no particular reason, leaving him to life. And I can't. The reasonable part of my brain tells me that he'd come after me, search for me until he has found me and bring me back to where I belong, where my place is, my destiny.   
  
And I would follow him back to a barren desert where my listless heart bleeds day after day, every moment I am near him, unable to touch him for fear of causing him even more pain than I feel.   
  
How blissfully unaware we were of all this when we first met. How easy our love was before we realised how precious and dangerous it truly was. How deep it ran. And how pointless it was.  
  
I look at the reddish tinge at the horizon and I watch him. He doesn't know I've followed him, nor does he know that I will run to him should he stay another moment longer at the beach. I won't let him die, I can't. I need him - if not to have, then to know he is there, somewhere, however far it may be.   
  
I'm greedy, irresponsible…and still I know that my heart won't let him commit suicide…not with a dawn that would remind me of his death every morning… He stands up now, so slowly his movements are dreamlike and I hold myself back by sheer strength of will. I should not take this from him, this choice between life and death.   
  
And still I want to. He walks away from me, choosing life. And I sink to my knees, crying. His life, death for me - knowing we will forever be apart.


End file.
